


Nosce Te Ipsum

by JamieLegend



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post DA2, Two Hawkes, Worry, everyone is angsty and bitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieLegend/pseuds/JamieLegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You must be really desperate to beg, Fenris." Varric watched his old friend, walking with him through the long halls of Skyhold.<br/>"If it's for Hawke, I'll do it. And the Inquisitor is the only one who can help."<br/>"And what if it killed her?"<br/>"It's Hawke we're talking about. The only way death could take her would be in her sleep, or else she'd put up a fight." Varric let out a soft laugh at the comment, and watched Fenris's rigid walk, as if the other was walking on needles.<br/>"You think the Inquisitor will help her even though she told her not to act on her own if she sees something curious?"<br/>"She has to. I'm not giving her a choice."<br/>Varric watched the cold dedication in his jade eyes, and he prayed to anyone that could hear him that Hawke was still alive and that she was trying to get back to him. Or Fenris will raise hell itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One or Don't Play With Rift Magic

“Hawke, stay in sight.”

  
Carver looked over to Fenris who called out to the woman walking few feet in front of them. She turned to him, flashing one of those ‘know-it-all’ grins that Carver knew too well, before turning back in front of her. Her pace did slow down slightly as they followed her. It felt a lot like a déjà vu.

Yet, at the same time everything seemed different. He wore Grey warden armour, Hawke’s hair was far longer than ever before, and Fenris... sometimes Carver barely recognized him. He was relaxed, walking more straight than before.

And his sister changed. Not only was her raven hair longer, tied in a ponytail and swaying slightly with her steps, but she seemed to be more...  
Well, he didn’t have a proper word for it.

He remembered when he found her in the Weisshaupt. The inquisition – of course Hawke ended up with them, was helping them out. He came to the fortress a few days later, having been called over to help with the restoration.

Little after he arrived and was reunited with his sister, Fenris arrived. Ever since he arrived, he barely saw Fenris without Hawke wandering close by. It was actually nice to see them together – he knew how much Hawke lost in her time in Kirkwall. He left, Mother died, and then Anders blew up the Chantry... He knew that she forgave him in the end, but it stool took a blow on her. So, just seeing Fenris close by, taking care of her like no one else was a reassuring sight.

She was safe with him.

“I still don’t understand as to why Hawke has to deal with that... thing.” Fenris grumbled besides him, and Carver looked down to him, and he could almost feel the displeasure that the elf felt prickling his skin.

“Marian said that she met that... rift magic witch of some sort while travelling with the Inquisition. The Inquisitor said they can’t come right away, and the First Warden worries.” Carver shrugged simply as he watched Hawke walking in front of them with a tiny spring in her step.

Fenris frowned, still displeased, but didn’t comment further. They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. There was no point in talking at the moment, and they were nearing the rift either way.

Finally the rift came into view.

Carver hadn’t seen many open rifts, other than the few giant ones. This one was smaller, but that didn’t seem to bother the rift itself – the sounds it produced reminded him a lot of Meredith’s sword. It was cracklings, snapping, almost like a hissing snake ready to pounce and kill on command.

“Hmm...”

Carver looked at his sister who took her long staff in her hand, and he noticed Fenris steeling up, ready to pounce.

“It looks... calm. For a rift.” She finally said as she slowly, carefully walked around it, and Carver couldn’t help to wonder what a non-calm rift looked like.  
Carver noticed Fenris shifting ever so closer to her, ready to get in between her and the rip in their reality. It looked like a bad cut with a knife that was once sharp. The green in itself was an upsetting shade, completely opposite of the dark red of the desert sand that dusted over the Anderfells.

“So, how do we close it?” Carver asked simply since he didn’t want to be standing in this desert longer than necessary. Marian looked over to him and flashed a bright grin before taking her usual stance – legs slightly spread, shoulders back.

It all happened in a brief second.

He watched as she threw her arm out, her staff pulsating with dark green energy – and the moment her energy collided with the rift there was some sort of a bright explosion, followed by a blast of energy that threw him back – and by the sounds of it, Fenris as well, before the bright light eventually dulled down and Carver found the strength to stand up. That blow of energy knocked him out harder than he expected it to.

But as he blinked and looked around he felt a painful feeling of dread settle in his stomach. The rift was still crinkling and snapping at them, long green tendrils twisting and turning. But it was quiet – dangerously quiet.

He finally realised what was wrong when Fenris yelled his sister’s name out.

Marian was gone.

Marian couldn’t be seen anywhere, she wasn’t around the rift, close to them. The area was an empty desert – it was just them, few stray rocks, and a rift. Marian was gone.  
Carver’s wide blue eyes were scanning the area, and he winced when there was a loud hissing, strangling noise as metal met the rift. Green sparks flew and he watched Fenris stumble back. The rift... the rift. The rift must have taken her in, somehow.

Carver was always teased for being slow by his older sister. She teased him relentlessly, but this time she wasn’t anywhere around him to tease him, to make him grumble and snap at her. She was gone – and that rift had done it.

Carver’s blue eyes could barely make out Fenris in the flashes of green and white. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around what happened, but he knew they couldn’t just yell and snap at the rift. What if it kills Marian, if it hadn’t already? What if it pulls Fenris in as well?

“Fenris, stop!” He yelled, and the elf came to a halt, sand that raised in a cloud around him slowly lowering itself down. The elf was breathing heavily, harshly, and his green eyes narrowed onto Carver as if he was the enemy.

“Stop it. It’s not.. it’s not budging, it’s not going to give her up.”

“What do you want me to do?!” He yelled at him, his marks flaring. “I can’t just sit there!” Carver knew it was a jab at him, considering he was still on the red sand, his sword driven into the dirt. He grabbed the hilt and hauled himself up, blue eyes narrowed.

“We should think of another approach! This is obviously not working!” He yelled, as if they couldn’t talk in lower voices. He just couldn’t watch Fenris anymore – desperately attacking the green monster that took the last person from his family.

Fenris wasn’t replying, his green eyes eyeing the rift as if trying to find some crack with which he could pry it open, reach in and pull her out. Scold her for scaring him, and holding her close to his chest, before dragging her out of this desert, away from all of the things trying to kill her... and...  
“What do you suggest then?” He snarled and looked back to Carver who looked just as lost as he was.

“...Perhaps the Inquisitor.” He said quietly, as if debating the thought himself. After all, he was more used to following orders. Hawke would know what to do. Hawke would already be solving this, and she would have this fixed by dinner.

Fenris seemed to have stopped and turned to Carver. Neither spoke for a few long moment, before Fenris moved and picked up a bag laying on the sand – Hawke’s. She always brought the leather bag with her, and whenever in combat dropped it to her side, before charging in. For a mage, she was way too much up front than either of them liked. But Fenris already decided he will bring it with him. It had the bare necessities, long enough to last him until he comes up to a large enough town.

“I’m going to find her then.” He said and opened the pack, just to see what supplies she had in. Few potions, a couple of packets of food... some salves and a few trinkets. He has to keep this safe...

“Right. You do know how far Skyhold is? Do you even know where it is?” Carver frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We should send them a message and keep an eye on the rift. Maybe Hawke will come back on her own through it.”

“I’m not sitting here. I’m going to find the Inquisitor and drag her here, if I have to.” Fenris snarled as he took his sword, putting it on his back so not to bother him. Hawke told him, more or less where Skyhold was. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a castle that huge.

“Right. You do remember that the Inquisitor is in charge of an Inquisition which has an army?” Carver frowned, shaking his head. “You’re being reckless, and that won’t help Haw—“

“Oh, and sitting here will?!” He snapped at him, his fingers digging into the leather strap of the bag. “You stay here then, if you want to do that so much. I’m going to Skyhold and I’m going to make her bring Hawke back.”

Carver frowned, staying quiet before nodding. “At least head out in the morning after a rest.”

“No.” Carver would have said he was disappointed, had he not met Fenris. He didn’t even get to say goodbye as he watched the elf turn and walk away, his pace quick.  
Carver looked at the rift, and heaved a sigh. “What a mess you made, Sister...” He murmured softly and decided to stay here for the night. Maybe a miracle...

///

Fenris couldn’t wait for a miracle. He had to go, he had to find the Inquisitor, make her bring his Hawke back. And to think this was the one last mission. She promised him, before they headed out. Promised him that they are going to get this sorted out, before going back to Ferelden, back to the tiny village they found which reminded her of Lothering. She promised him that this would be quick and easy, and he told her nothing was quick and easy.

She laughed it off, but he was right.

Maker, did he wish he was wrong.

It was weeks before the scenery changed. Fenris took tiny breaks, hating every moment that he had to stop for a rest, every moment he took to gather supplies, every band of bandits that he came across were just a diversion to his quest for Sky hold, to find that blasted Inquisitor and make her come to Weisshaupt and bring Hawke back.  
The quiet was almost suffocating. In years of solitude, of trying to tone out what was going around him, Fenris was used to the silence. In fact, he often craved it. But then he met Hawke, and she changed more than he would care to admit.

One of the things that she changed was the silence. The silence was all but gone. She was always humming, talking, or making some noise as she walked. He got used to the sounds that went with following Hawke, in fact, he came to crave them whenever they had to part even if it was for a little while.

When she received word from Varric, asking her to come to Skyhold, he wished she did let him go with. He knew it would be dangerous, he knew it would be reckless and stupid. Yet, she insisted she goes, while he went to help Isabela. It was... nice to be around his friend again, but every day he found himself worrying about her.  
In a port town, he heard that the inquisition was making a move on Weisshaupt, so he decided he was going to go, join them and stay with Hawke. Just in case. When he did come, the mess was already over.

Something happened to her, he was sure of that. They were trapped in the Fade for a while, and he knew she was weighed down by her guilt – even if he thought that the guilt was unnecessary. She told him about Corephyus, about the Fade, about the demon. It tired her out, and he wanted nothing more than to help her. He wanted to make her laugh like she did when it was just the two of them.

But nothing was ever easy.

He barely registered that instead of sand it was warm, soft dirt under his feet, that the sun was blocked by foliage and tall trees. The air was easier, and sometimes, he could almost see Hawke walking beside him and touching the flowers with the tips of his fingers.

He had to rest. Hallucinating won’t help Hawke.

As he came across a small clearing, Fenris couldn’t deny the ache that his body was trying to convey to him. His legs and feet were aching, his head was throbbing with the need to sleep, and his stomach was growling for substance. Rest was needed – with renewed strengths he could get to Skyhold faster. He’d hate stopping, but he needed to. For Hawke’s sake.

But the clearing wasn’t clear. Yes, it was a small break from trees and greenery, but Fenris saw the pack with clothes there, a sleeping bag, and the fire. Someone was here. At first, he just planned to walk away from it – the less people he met, the better, had he not seen one thing. One stupid thing.

A black feather rested over the pack of clothes. He walked over and picked it up, turning it between his fingers. No. It couldn’t be...

Just then he heard a twig snap and like he was struck by something, Fenris pulled out his sword to the sound, and could honestly say he was disgusted.

Anders was there, holding a few logs in his arms, his clothes dirty, and face looking almost as exhausted as Fenris. The mage wasn’t saying anything which only annoyed Fenris more.

This man was the reason Hawke had to leave her home. This man was the reason she stayed up for so many nights, crying over how much she missed him, missed her friends, missed her shitty home. This was the man that screwed her life up.

Finally, one of them spoke up.

“Where’s Hawke?”

For a second, Fenris wanted to respond with ‘Probably picking flowers’ or ‘Playing with her dog’. But he knew both were wrong. Hawke was in the Fade, and Mars was gone. Fenris was alone. But he refused to settle with this – he will get her back, even if he has to enter the Fade itself to find her.

Even if it was just to get her body to mourn.

“I will take that as something happened.” Anders didn’t move, simply staring at the elf with a tired expression. “What happened?” He asked, his throat dry as gravel.

“... Rift magic.” Fenris stated, and a frown settled on his features.

“And I know just how to use you to get Hawke back.” His jade eyes settled on Anders and he finally felt some kind of reassuring comfort, something that told him he just found a way to help Hawke by actually doing something.

Even if it was risky, Fenris knew he had only one option now.

He will have to work with Anders to get Hawke back.

And even if it did disgust him, he wouldn’t let magic win. No matter the price.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we found out what happens when a different kind of Rift pulls you in.

Any air that was left in her lungs was forced out of her when the green tendrils wrapped around her, bringing her into ... itself? Suddenly, the world around her turned green, flashing and pulsating around her, and she couldn’t move. Her body itself felt off – as if she had no weight, but she could feel the pressure of this place weighing down on her.

If only she could be anywhere, but here...

Home.

Hawke wished she could go home. She wished she could go back to the good old days in Kirkwall, when their worries extended merely to how she will get to Hightown from the Hanged man after her tenth ale. 

Little hint, it involved Aveline grumbling about her being irresponsible while she carried her back home. 

Home.

Before it burnt with the Gallows, people screaming in terror as it was wrecked by the war of templars and mages. Home while there was still bells chiming in the morning and night, where she'd sometimes go to find Fenris or Sebastian to talk to.

Home.

While the Sundermount was still full of the Dalish elves with their Keeper keeping a watchful eye over them, and ships coming and going with their trade.

Home.

But the perspective was off – as if she were watching it from some sort of a ladder. And just as she realised that she was a few feet up in the air, she fell down, landing on one foot. The pain of that fall was sharp, like a javelin piercing through her leg, tearing her flash apart as it ran up. 

Letting out a soft groan as she opened her eyes, now laying on the cold hard floor, Hawke could see the faint stars that dotted the night sky. The same stars she saw whenever she looked up when she was helping Aveline with her night patrols.

Which felt odd.

After all, it was high noon when the three of them encountered the rift in the desert. Not dead of night. Besides, it smelled horrible. It was the same, heavy smell of perfumes that tried far too hard to hide the stench that rose from the lower districts. It smelled like Hightown.

A deep frown settled on her pale features as Hawke sat up, looking around in almost childlike bewilderment. This couldn’t be right – after all, she shouldn’t be here. She was just in the desert with Fenris and Carver, not in the middle of a high town square.

Technically, she was in front of her mansion. Her home.

"Andraste's flaming..." She got up, taking her staff as help to stand – the dagger that was lodged in the bottom of it had let out a loud clank as the metal met stone. She glanced down to her ankle and swallowed a tiny groan. The pain now was dull, consistent, and she didn’t even need to take off her boot to notice how badly twisted it probably was. Even her shitty healer skills could tell her that. 

Which meant she would need to take off the dagger from the bottom of her staff to use it as leverage to walk around. Hawke balanced herself on one foot, before turning her staff around to take off the dagger from the bottom of it, and tucked it in on the back of her belt in its small sheath. She lowered her staff down, leaning against it.

This must be a dream. Or maybe this just threw her in Kirkwall. But if it did, why did her home look so …well? After the fight, she went back to find Orana to take her to safety considering the riots that were starting to flare up.

As she ran out of her home with Orana, Bodahn and Sandal in toe, she could swear that she heard some people throwing stones and torches at her home- blaming her for what happened. It would take months before the events of what happened where crystallized, but by then she and her friends have left for the safety of other lands. Fenris and her spent a good chunk of time hiding in Ferelden, along with Anders for a while, before he disappeared one day as well.

But this home, her home, was intact. There was no signs of looting, no boards against the windows. It was clean as ever, and the garden was well kept just from the quick look of it. Was someone growing herbs there..? She looked over her shoulder, and her eyes widened.

The Chantry.

It stood there, tall, proud. It wasn't destroyed by the massive explosion that Anders... 

What was going on, what was going on...

"Carver..." She called softly, and looked around. Just as she thought, her oaf of a brother didn't seem to have gotten pulled in as well. If he did, he would have been grumbling, groaning and clanking with his big armour of his, making his presence well known.

“Fenris...” Her voice almost hurt in her throat from the brief flash of panic. Oh, he’d hate this, she thought. He hated when things got weird and screwed up by magic. But there was no reply, no grumbling elf in sight. That was good, she figured. Maker knows how this place looks or functions. Putting her weight on her staff, Marian Hawke decided to check out this house. 

Maybe it was just for its sentimental value, but she still had her key around her neck on a string. Carefully tugging the string, the mage held it in her free hand. The few things she couldn't part with accompanied it. Her mother's ring, house key, and the ring... She shook her head and swallowed hard. She's getting back to Fenris the first moment she can. Knowing him, he's already brooding about her missing dinner. Again.

Fenris.

Maker, she missed him already. They really weren't meant to be a part. How hard it had been in Skyhold without him - especially since she knew it was her fault that he was alone. Yes, he was on a task with Isabela for a while, but she knew he had gone back to their village while she was still in Skyhold.

Hawke really hoped he finally fixed that hole in the roof of the house they found. It was a shack, and the field surrounding it barely yielded anything, but they were determined to make it work. It was a small place, away from the ruckus of the world, but yet not that remote that they couldn’t join whatever quest they felt like.

It was supposed to be home, yet she went to help the Inquisition.

She was so happy when he came for her. Simply being close to him, seeing him, talking to him... She looked up to her staff and swallowed hard. This was bad, and it happened just seconds ago.

Shaking her head once more, Hawke pushed her key in and unlocked the door easily. She stepped in, and hummed in relief that she was finally home. Ah, the house looked exactly as she remembered it.  
Except...

Who has boots like that? The person with that size of feet must be really well endowed. Also... Her fingers reached out to pick up the light green feather, turning it around between her fingers with a frown on her face. She knew these feathers - she found them in Orlais, at that adventure with Tallis. Anders...

Her heart squeezed in her chest at the memory of Anders and she looked to the hall. Was Anders here..? She took a few steps, or well, limped to the hall and her confusion got even greater when she saw her dog.

"Mars. Mars, hey boy..." She called softly as she crouched down. No, that wasn't right. Mars was ... gone… Wasn’t he?

The dog looked up, and she expected him to bound over to her and to lick her face silly. Instead the dog looked at her with his smart eyes as if he was trying oh so hard to remember who she was, who...

"Boof."

Oh, she knew that sound. Mars made that sound whenever he was confused if he should bark or not. Why didn't he recognise her? After all, he bonded with /her/ even though it was Carver trying so hard to get a Mabari. It's for warrior's, he said, yet the puppy followed her. Bethany giggled at that and wanted to call him Princess. For a while they did call him Princess Mars, but ended up with calling him just Mars. Yet, the dog didn't recognise her.

She winced as a dagger lodged itself in the doorpost right next to her head, and she looked up seeing a...

Stranger.

His hair was raven black, messy - probably from sleep considering one side was far more slicked than the other, with thick raven beard and built like a tree trunk. Who was he and what was he doing in her home?

"What are you doing in my house?"

They both spoke up and just as they realised they said the very same thing, they both pressed their lips in a tight line, completely dumbfounded. Another 'boof' came from Mars, much softer this time. 

There was shifting behind him, and a man stepped in view. Shoulder long strawberry hair, scruffy beard, and the same lanky built.

Marian had almost dropped her staff in shock.

"Anders? Anders, what are you doing here? You know you shouldn’t be in Kirkwall, with what’s going on and all. Also, how... how is my dog here? I mean, Mars had...”

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Usually, Anders would never interrupt her when she started to babble. Yes, she was close with Fenris, extremely so. But Anders was a close second, or a close third if you counted Varric. Anders knew that when she'd start to babble quickly, and shift around nervously that she was just being anxious and needed to get it out of her system. He'd always listen. Never interrupt. And now... now...

"What do you mean? It's me, Hawke." She pronounced her name slowly, as if he couldn't understand what she was saying.

Both of the men looked at each other, even more confused than before. The man with a thick beard finally looked over to her and spoke up.

"I'm Garrett Hawke. And this is my home. In which I live with my dog, Ares, Bodahn, Sandal, Orana and my lover, Anders." 

This time she did drop her staff, one hand clutching the frame of the door and the other going to rub her face. No, this couldn't be happening. 

Ares?

Garrett Hawke?

"No, no. I'm Hawke. Marian. First born of Malcom Hawke and Leandra Hawke, previously Leandra Amell, older sister of Bethany and Carver. Mars bonded with me when the army passed through Ostagar, and has been with me ever since. And Anders... lives in his clinic, but he would sometimes sleep here..." Her voice was thin, as if she was scared that she was saying something wrong. 

Garret looked from Marian to Anders and back. The strawberry haired mage gave a curt nod when his eyes met Garrets. 

"... I'm Hawke. Garrett. First born of Malcom Hawke and Leandra Hawke, previously Leandra Amell, older brother of Bethany and Carver. I got Ares the same way... and Anders and I have been living together for a few weeks now, but have been together for years."

She shook her head while looking around. Yes, the furniture was the same, but it lacked some things. It lacked the notebook where Fenris practiced his writing skills, grumbling under his breath over how impossible it was. It lacked Carver's whetstone that she kept even after he went to the Grey  
Wardens. This wasn't real.

It can't be real.

Her blue eyes flickered up to the two, watching them. Anders... Anders looked different, that's for sure. Yes, even though he looked tired, it wasn't his primary feature as it was before. He looked happier. Loved.

Thoughts started to quickly swirl in her head as she tried to make sense of it, but there was one pounding question, one that she simply had to ask.

"Where's Fenris? Danarius, he ... "

Garrett frowned slightly before shaking his head. "Fenris lives in Hightown as well. How do you know of Danarius?" 

Hawke felt her muscles loosen and she went silent for awhile, contemplating over what he just told her and made sure she understood it more or less. Fenris was alive and well…

One hand moved to rest over her stomach, while her shoulder pressed against the door frame. Fenris was in this world as well – she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She remembered how hard it was for Fenris to get used to her being a mage, and her being close to him. She remembered how hard it was for him to get in contact with his feelings, and start... healing.

What was this Fenris like? Was he like the man who she met in the Alienage, all those years ago? Was he different from that as well?

But what bothered her the most was that she knew he wasn’t her Fenris here. He couldn’t be, with everything else so different from what she remembered. He wasn’t the person she loves, it wasn’t the person who loves her. She wasn’t sure how she’ll be able to face him, let alone speak to him.  
Should she speak to him?

Should she even exist in this world?

But what even is this world?

Marian looked up, seeing the cold hard stare that Garrett was giving her, and the questioning look on Anders’s face. She had to think this through. Threading blindly might just kill her before she even realises what she’s doing in the first place.

So, this is the world where Anders didn't blow up the Chantry. Or maybe didn't blow it up yet. Her eyes looked over to him, trying to see something, anything. Something she didn't see in her timeline.  
Some sign, some hint that he would destroy that sacred place and throw the whole world into a rebellion. 

She bent down to take her staff, leaning against it once more.

"Hm. I will have to really have a talk with the Maker one day about the crap he makes me go through." She huffed, before she looked at the Garrett again and hummed in thought. It seems like in the time that she spaced out he found another dagger. Did he always have them on hand, or was he just precocious? Either way, smart move.

"Are you a mage?" She asked, as she straightened up further, making sure she didn't put any weight on her hurt ankle. If he was, then she would really be worried. A mage that wields daggers that well? Dangerous.

The man frowned, seeing the change of her attitude, before shaking his head. "I'm a warrior." 

"Oh charming. Just like Carver." And at that she saw the man wince, even if it was just such a slight motion. Her stomach fell to her feet. She frowned.

"Carver. Where is he? Is he with the Grey Wardens or did he become a professional whiner?" 

"… Lady, Carver died before they got to Kirkwall." Hawke looked away from her counterpart who went dead silent, and focused on Anders. 

"... Bethany." 

"Bethany is in the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall." 

Honestly, if she wasn't leaning against her staff, she would have fallen right there and then. Bethany. Bethany is alive and Carver...

"Is father alive? In your timeline, is he..?" She didn't dare to finish the sentence, before the man scoffed and turned his head away.

"Father died long ago, while we still lived back in Lothering." His voice was bitter.

She gave a curt nod and tapped her finger on her staff. Bethany is alive, and Carver is gone. Since her mother wasn’t rushing out in her nightgown to see what the ruckus was about, she could only guess that her mother had already died in this world as well… 

She looked around before noticing a piece of armour identical to her own. So... they are currently living at the time after the Arishok, and before Anders...

"You owe some explanations. How did you get in here?"

“Through the door.”Marian replied with a cheeky grin in her very poor attempt to ease the mood, but Garret only frowned – clearly he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She couldn’t even blame him – she was nothing but a stranger in his home, and he was even taking it rather swimmingly. Marian noticed that Mars – no, not Mars, Ares moved, standing up on all fours, watching her. Did Garrett give him a signal or something? Great, maybe she overestimated his good mood.

Marian Hawke decided she might as well be honest about it then – she really didn’t want the next dagger to lodge itself in her. "Look, Isabela tried to teach me how to pick locks, I think twenty or so times, and I would just break her bobby pins. So, I used the key." She showed him the key on the string, before tucking it back under her armour, looking over to Anders this time. Does he believe her..?

"Where did you get the key?" Garrett’s thick eyebrows furrowed deeper over blue eyes, and she could see him square his shoulders further. He was tense, and just the sight of him made her gut turn around. This man clearly wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Yet, "I think I got this one from when I changed the locks after realising Isabela has been coming into my house to steal pies. I didn't change it again after her next break in since I would have to change it about once every two weeks to keep her confused, and it would just be too bothersome...", she joked anyway. Varric would often tell her it would lead to her losing her head one day. 

The other Hawke snorted. She watched as he glanced at Anders, eyebrows raised, before looking back to her, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a cheerless half smile.

"You mentioned Danarius."

Oh shit.

Hawke hummed and nodded slightly. If they were backwards in the timeline...If she told anyone what happens in the future could she affect it herself? Change the outcome, change things that will happen...

If Fenris knew Danarius was coming with his sister... Could they intercept her, pull her away from Danarius? She'd still let Fenris finish the bastard, but... She wanted to see if Varania could change. For Fenris's sake.

"Does he come after Fenris?"

"... Of course he does. Fenris said so from the get go."

Garrett frowned and she knew he wasn't pleased with that answer. And seeing he was just about to start asking again, she decided to speak up.

"Look, I know you have questions and all that, but what I need right now is an elfroot potion and some bandages. I twisted my ankle, and let me tell you, it hurts.” She gestured at her ankle “Please…”

Anders glanced at her ankle and then back up to her eyes. He didn't trust her yet - or Justice didn't. Or maybe both.

She swallowed then and tapped her staff. "I could have tried to kill you both already if I wanted to. 

But I want to get back home. To my... time. And I really don't want trouble."

The two looked at each other, and she noticed Anders brushing his fingers against the inside of Garret's wrist. Garrett grabbed his arm, and she could see him press a dagger in his hand. The look they shared was honest, as if they were telling each other everything through just a simple gaze. It was... sweet to see it. After all, she always did want Anders to be happy, to be loved, and to trust someone as wholeheartedly as he could. 

But their moment was quickly over as Anders merely nodded and headed downstairs to her, dagger in his left hand.

"Thank you." She shifted carefully to get on one of the arm chairs, sinking into it. Still soft, just as before. The dog and Garrett kept their eyes on her as she unlaced her boot and took it off. Her ankle was slightly swollen, but she knew it would heal in a few days... Hopefully.

Anders crouched down and gently squeezed it, before nodding and going to the potions drawer, her blue eyes were watching him move to pick out what he wanted. He placed down the dagger, so he could use both hands, and if she wasn’t wrong the potion would be the second one to the left...

And ha, he still packaged them in the same vial that he gave her all those years ago. She took it and pulled off the cap before drinking it down in one go.

"Will you answer some questions now?"

"Depends."

That seemed to strike a nerve and Anders’s fist tightened way too near her head. She didn’t even dare to look up to Garret, since she could only guess how furious he was with her. The silence that settled was cold, hard, and she knew she had to say something fast before that warrior produces a third dagger and it ends up right in her skull.

"Look, all you need to know is that I come from a world where... I'm Garrett. Just a mage and with better hair. Also, sorry Anders, but you and I were just friends." Anders raised an eyebrow before looking away from her. His fist eased up slightly, the colour returning to his hand.

"Also, I'm a few years ahead of you all." She said and sighed.

"The problem is, if I tell you too much of my future it could affect yours, right?" She looked away and stayed quiet as the other two thought it through.

"Then we should question your past. See if you really are... The other Hawke."

Marian looked up to Anders and smiled slightly. Her eyes then glanced over to the other man who was frowning, arms crossed over his chest, and she wondered if he bench presses Varric to get that kind of muscle.

“I just have one question for you at the moment.” Anders said, making Hawke raise her eyebrow.

“Lay it on me.”

"Do you need help up the stairs? You look like you need some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll be bringing everyone here to... question you."

Hawke snorted and shook her head before speaking up again. "Aw. Can't we go to the Hanged Man first?"

"Not with that foot you don't." Anders chimed and Garret pouted, obviously unimpressed. "Come on, let me help you up there," Anders said and offered her his hand, but she shook her head and unlaced her second boot.

"No boots upstairs." She mimicked her mother's voice, and she didn't have to look up to Garret to see him wince. Right… He had less time to get used to it than her. Marian got up, leaning on her staff. "I know where the guest room is. You two go back to... whatever it is that you two were doing." She teased and Anders shook his head, his expression serious once more. 

0Garrett stayed back to watch her rest her hand on the guest doorknob as Anders rejoined him. Marian heard Ares come up the stairs a pace behind her and felt his warmth wash over the back of her legs. Was Garret threatening her using his dog?

"For your sake I hope you're not lying."

Marian looked over to him, silent for a few long moments before speaking up.

"Trust me, I wish this wasn't real just as much as you do." And with that she stepped in, putting her boots down. Before the door closed, she saw the dog sit down, it’s smart eyes focused on her. A proper guard dog. She sighed and started moving just to keep herself busy. Almost mechanically, she took off her armour and went to lay down in bed, her whole body heavy. 

Carver...

Maker, he must be worrying his silly head off. He did always hate it when she disappeared. Does he feel guilty?

And Fenris...

Quickly, Hawke brushed the heel of her palm over her eyes to make sure no tears escaped and merely tugged the heavy blanket over her head and tried to sleep or at least rest her foot.

Easier said than done. The night had trickled away, slowly. Honestly, she couldn’t remember a night that lasted longer than this one had. It was weird to sleep in the guest room of her own house, weird to think that there’s a man the size of an oak tree trunk in her bed with Anders, and that her dog doesn’t know who she is.

Still, as always, her mind escaped to Fenris. 

What was he like now? Was he colder, more distant than before? Was he warmer?  
Does he wear the red favour?

It was weird to imagine Fenris without it. She even remembered giving it to him, one night while he was learning how to read in her home, by the fire. 

Marian teased him how he’s her best student by far. It only earned her a roll of his eyes and she stayed quiet for a few moments as she tried to remember what was a good reward for being a good student. Her father would usually give her sister and her tiny trinkets – an amulet for protection, or an extra slice of pie, or... she remembered standing up and going to her closet. Her mother had once ordered her plenty of pretty dresses that Hawke never wore. So she decided to use one of them, in particular the red one. She used the dagger cut off half of the sleeve. He was confused when she told him it’s his reward – after all what was he to do with a piece of red fabric? Marian just told him to keep it, and he groaned, but tied it around his left wrist so it doesn’t bother him.

And ever since that he never took it off. 

Did this Garret taught him how to read? Did he notice that Fenris struggled with words that had fewer vowels in them? Did he give him tiny rewards to keep him optimistic about it, did he give him the red favour?

A selfish part of her hoped he didn’t. It was a private thing between her and Fenris after all, and if she really was... or if Garret really was her, she didn’t want him to have the same relationship with Fenris as she did. It was perhaps childish and stupid, and yet...

Hawke moved her hand to take out her necklace, her finger going over the soft silver ring that dangled on it. She remembered one party that her mother threw – there was a young noble girl there. She had just gotten engaged, and her ring was golden, encrusted with sapphires, to match her eyes. 

Marian remembered watching that and being grateful no one would do such a cheesy thing for her. Yet, she remembered how Fenris and she went to Lothering, after... after everything. It was destroyed, the ground was black with the blight in it. 

It was silent as she went around the remains of her village like a ghost. It hurt – Maker, she knew it was destroyed, yet she still couldn’t deal with the image in front of her. Her home town reduced to ashes. She remembered sitting on one of the rocks overlooking where her family’s home used to be. She barely heard him sit down with her, and she noticed he was meddling with something.

It’s a ring, he finally grumbled, it’s broken, but I want you to have it. It was confusing, considering he wasn’t the one for gift giving, and a broken ring seemed odd. Finally, he explained it by simply asking her to marry him.

In the midst of all that horror and emptiness, he asked her to marry him with a ring he found there. She could have never said no to him. They still haven’t found a Chantry to marry in, but it didn’t matter. She knew she’d be with him for the rest of her life. Now, she just had to go back to him.

Somehow.

 

 

In the morning, she heard both Garret and Anders leave – they were arguing about something, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Quietly, Marian got up and tried her ankle. It still hurt in its own right, dully and whenever touched it would remind her of the damage with a sharp prick of pain, but it was better today. Now, she didn’t know what to do.

A tiny knock startled her, and she leaned against the bedpost as the door opened. 

Orana.

Hawke’s heart eased a little at the sight of the young elven girl, holding a tray with different breakfast treats on it. She was still the same shy girl as before... At least some things never change. 

“Good morning, mistress. Master Hawke told me to bring you breakfast when you wake up, and Master Anders asked me to bring the potion as well...” Her voice was soft, and she could barely hold her gaze. 

“Thank you.” Hawke carefully moved, taking the tray, with a soft smile. “I will have to ask you for a favour. Do you have some clothes, anywhere near my size? I don’t think being in my armour all the time would be good.” 

Orana smiled and nodded. “Mistress Bethany has some clothes in that trunk. I’m sure she won’t mind, if you borrow some.”

Marian nodded and smiled to her. “Thank you. Really. Well, I won’t bother you much.” She nodded and placed the tray on the desk. Maker, did she miss Orana’s eggs. That girl did add a lot of spices to her poor Ferelden taste pallet, but it was so good after you got used to it. 

Orana nodded, giving the other girl a tiny bow, before closing the door behind her. 

The rest of her day slowly trickled away. Hawke finished the breakfast, and later the lunch Orana brought, having a tiny chat with her, before the girl went along with her chores. 

Bethany’s clothes... they were simple enough and it was weird to wear her sister’s clothes again. They barely smelled like her. They didn’t smell like freshly pressed flowers, and they weren’t too small on her. Hawke often did wonder over how Bethany would be like, had she lived in Kirkwall. Would she be like Anders, rushing around to help anyone she could? Or would she be colder and less interested in people around her? Would this city corrupt her? 

She missed her. Bethany, despite being younger than Marian, was raised along her, unlike Carver who was somehow always on the sidelines. 

Hawke managed to pull one of the arm chairs to the room balcony and stayed out on the balcony for the most of her day. It was quite soothing to simply watch the citizens of Hightown walk about, to hear the Chantry bells chime softly in the distance and to feel the warm rays of sunshine on her pale skin.

Still, it felt like she was wasting her time. She was never good at being unproductive, staying still when there was so much to be done. Maybe she should travel to Weisshaupt and see if the rift was there, somehow. Maybe she should just hit the books – no matter how much that notion disgusted her. 

Anything to get back to Fenris.

Her stomach turned in pain, and Marian had to press her hand to it, as if that could soothe it. Hell, did her stomach already forget the taste of those spices? 

Shaken from her thoughts by a familiar white noise, Hawke leaned a bit over her arm chair. Her friends, she could simply recognise the sounds of their banter from afar. Aveline groaning, Merill giggling, Isabela’s smooth voice... And she saw them, walking together, laughing, as if everything was ...

Her heart stopped in her chest when she saw Fenris, walking in the back, besides Sebastian. Silent, watching. For a second, she thought she caught his eyes, before they looked over to Sebastian.

It was good to at least see him – even if they didn’t share anything in this world, it was good to know he still existed. A comforting thought. 

Before she even realised it, they all slipped into the mansion. She could hear them bicker in the lounge, but she couldn’t exactly make out the words. Glancing down to her ankle, Marian carefully bent it from side to side, but it still gave a sharp jolt of pain when she did so. She couldn’t exactly just walk over there, and stand around – her ankle would protest against it. 

She looked over to her staff, the white wood almost glowing against the dark scarlet of the sheets. It was quite a masterpiece, she had to admit that. Soft, eerie white wood, with intricate runes carved along it. Even the dagger that she had installed at the base of it was white – sylvrivte metal or something. Merill gave her a long, long explanation of the elvish craft, but she must have trailed off somewhere. 

Anders once asked her about it, why she insisted so hard on having a white staff like that. It stood out, and could be easily spotted from the distance, he said. 

To be perfectly honest, she couldn’t really give him an answer. It’s rather beautiful, she could admit that, and it was powerful, dealing extra damage whenever she used either spirit or ice magic. It was just the right size for her, and the width wasn’t too much. Maybe it reminded her of Fenris, of the way he moved so quickly on the field that he became nothing less than a white flurry, that strange white hair of his flashing brighter than the sun itself.

Marian wished she could trust... her friends. She honestly wished that she could trust them wholeheartedly as she did in her own little world. That she could trust them not to hurt her, that nothing goes wrong and that no one gets hurt. But she wasn’t sure if she could. 

What if their relationship was different with Garrett? What if they were all colder, more distant, or maybe they weren’t like themselves. What if they just looked like the people she knew, but were in fact nothing like them?

What if, in the end, she was dealing with strangers?

Once more, her gut turned painfully, the pain sharp and long, so she pressed her hand to her stomach as if she could ease the pain. 

Sighing, Marian shook her head and took her staff, deciding she might as well use it, but just to help her walk. She would never attack them, not even in her wildest dreams would she do something as crazy as that.

Watching the doorknob, Marian felt her stomach tighten. Maybe it was from being nervous. Maybe it was the spicy chicken she had for lunch.

Finally, the door creaked open and Marian stepped outside. 

The moment her blue eyes noticed the people mingling downstairs, their shapes moving as they found spots to stand or sit, with one chair in the middle, in front of the fire, was the moment that her stomach tightened in an incredibly tight knot. She knew it was the chair she was supposed to sit in soon as they her interrogate her to prove... whatever they thought she was.

Marian wondered if she had the strength to go downstairs, or to even push the door fully open. She felt sick to the very pit of her stomach, every cell in her body telling her she has to flee, that she has to run away, that she has to get home where she would be the one downstairs, standing calmly, with Fenris at her back, Varric at her side. 

Place where she was safe.

‘You’re the champion’, she desperately told herself as her grip on the doorknob tightened so badly her knuckles were white. ‘You’re the Champion, for Maker’s sake, just do this and you’re one step closer to going home. One step closer to going back to Varric and your friends. One step closer to Fenris. One step closer to Fenris. One damn step closer.’

Finally, Marian pushed the door open, and she never saw them turn their heads so quickly to her. Never, not once. Their peering eyes were reflecting fire from the fireplace as they looked over to her, and her breath quickened, her heart hammering so badly that she could swear it would jump out of her chest in any given moment. Jump out of her chest, and escape without her.

One deep breath and she moved, walking to the stairs with the heavy help of her staff. It was harder than she thought it would be, harder than when she went to stand opposite of the Arishok, harder than standing between Meredith and Orsino, while the Chantry burned, harder than climbing on that ship to run away. 

Yet, she knew she had to do it. She could only push Garrett this far, and after this... Maker only knows what will happen to her.

Marian was never really religious. Yes, she believed in the Maker, that someone out there had planted them here, but she never believed that they really gave a shit what happens to them afterwards. After all, what kind of a sick man would make her go through this?

Who could stand there and watch their friends cold eyes staring at her as if she was nothing but a mere stranger to them, as if they haven’t shed blood and tears together, as if they haven’t laughed or shared a drink more often than not, how...

Her fingers that weren’t holding her staff were shivering, and she tried to stiffen them as hard as she could, blue eyes focused on her feet, on how she moved. She didn’t dare to look up, dare to look at Aveline standing so stiffly as if she was made of wood, or Anders’s warm eyes that wanted to help her but he knew he shouldn’t, or Merill’s anxious look on her, or Fenris...

Oh Maker, Fenris.

Finally, as she came to the top of the stairs, she dared to look up to them, and they were acting just like she imagined. True, maybe she wanted them to be warm with her, joking, clap her on the back. Maybe Varric could crack a joke that she’d continue, only to hear Fenris groan. Merill would giggle, and Isabela would give that snort that was charming yet slightly sexual, and Anders could shake his head in attempt to hide his laugh, along with Sebastian. 

But these weren’t her friends. Because her friends wouldn’t stare at her so coldly.

“Come sit down. We have a few questions.”

Marian was surprised at the strong authority that laid under barely politely words that Garrett spoke.  
He looked taller now that he was fully awake, bigger now when he was in armour. He was terrifying. If he really was her, was she like that as well?

No, not possibly. Her frame is lean, and her words are warmer, aren’t they? But her eyes flickered to her staff and she knew that only the sight of her staff would put everyone on edge. 

Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, Marian forced herself to walk downstairs. It was a slow, gruelling process and with every step she took, she could swear that the air grew colder, stiffer, and that the tension rose. But, she finally managed to get down, and she dared to look up once more. They were all standing in a semi circle around the chair, except for Fenris and Sebastian who were standing in the furthest corner from the chair. Hell, she knew that from there she will have to stand his jade eyes holding a firm grip on her.

For the first time she wished that Fenris couldn’t see her.

Swallowing hard, and praying that her voice wouldn’t break she decided to speak up. This tension was suffocating her, and she just had to say something, anything that could help her even in the slightest. 

“Wow, you really can make a girl feel special.”

Marian wasn’t sure what she was expecting. A laugh?A giggle? Fenris to groan, with a corner of his mouth twitched upwards in that lazy smile that she adored with every cell of her body? 

Of course not. Just cold silence, while the fire crackled behind the chair, casting shadows over their faces. 

“Tough cro-“

She was interrupted by Garrett and his booming voice. “Sit.” 

She felt like he was speaking to some feral dog, and maybe in his eyes she was just that. Maybe she was nothing better than a dog that would try to rip his throat out the moment it got the chance. But no, that really wasn’t her plan. Her plan was to go home. 

For now, she managed to heave herself into the chair, and she quickly laced her fingers together as if to hide her shivering when she laid her staff down in an attempt to seem less threatening. Still, she saw Varric shy away from it, ever so slightly, and she could almost see a glint of a dagger in his sleeve.

She was just about to open her mouth to speak, but Garrett beat her to it once more.

“To recap quickly. This woman showed up last night, deep in the night, with a key, without disturbing Ares.” She noticed the dog’s smart eyes glisten as it watched her. “And then claimed she was me – but not any kind. She claimed to be me from the future.”

Well, that sounded extremely mad now that he said it. Maybe she should have just turned around and left when she saw the signs at the front door. Go to the Pearl, or Hanged man, or...Her mind flickered to Fenris’s mansion, and she knew that if she did go, he’d rip her heart out. She almost winced at the thought.

“We had let her stay the night, but now...” Marian noticed their eyes were the same. Bright blue, dark eyelashes, and slightly cat eyed... Anders once said she reminded him of the cats that could wait for hours for the perfect moment to pounce. This man really had such a look on his face, and she was certain he was going to pounce on her in this moment.

“But now, we will question you. To see if you’re just some crazy person who read everything Varric wrote about us, heard on the street, or saw something.”

“I’m not crazy-“ 

“I will be the judge of that.” Marian pressed her lips together as he cut her off. Her stomach was turning, twisting, and she wondered if it really was a good idea to eat such spicy food before this hell.

She was silent for a moment, and her eyes immediately went to look for some reassurance, some comfort from her person, from Fenris... but she was only met with a cold stare, emotionless, expressionless. Sharp pain spread through her chest at that look, before she finally looked up to Garrett.

She needs to be over with this, or else her heart will fail her.

“Ask away.”

Her eyes flickered from person to person, desperately trying to read their faces, trying to see if anyone /knew/her as she knew them, even though she knew that could never happen, that they could never know her.

Isabela spoke up first. “If I could have any colour sails what colour would they be?”

Marian looked over to her, and out of all of them, her features were the softest. Yes, she showed her signs of distrust, with her head tilted back slightly, lower lip pursed, but there was no frown on her face. And maybe that put her at ease slightly.

“... Wine red.” She said, and it was such an easy answer. She remembered sitting with Isabela one day at the docks, when she had a little too much to drink and needed to clear her head. She remembered them sitting together, legs swaying as they sat just on the very edge, watching the ships slowly rise and fall on the tiniest of waves. “That’s why you said that the ship in the bottle was perfect. It wasn’t ordinary, like all the other ones with white sails. It was different, and you like different.” Was she saying too much, did she say something wrong...

Her soft laughter stopped her nervous train of thought, making her expression soften as she watched her before smiling softly. “Well, if you ask me, if anyone should know about my ship in a bottle, it should be Hawke. It’s not like I would parade such a thing out in the open.”

It eased some of her tension to see one of her closest friends acknowledge her so easily, as if it really didn’t bother her that much... Merill, standing beside her, looked up to Isabela, before finally looking to Hawke, and deciding she wants to speak.

“What was the first gift I got when I came to live in the alienage?” She asked, her voice lacking the usual chipper tune it had, which made Marian..nervous. If Merill was aware of how bad the situation was, then it was really bad.

Still, she forced herself to smile, forced herself to sit upright, forced herself not to break down under all of this pressure. ‘Just another step closer to going back home, going back to her friends, going back to her family, going back to Fenris.’

Unconsciously, her eyes darted to Fenris, but she couldn’t look at him, not properly, before she looked back to Merill and swallowed hard. “Yarn. Varric gave you a ball of yarn, because you kept getting lost. It was a pretty, light green colour.” 

Merill’s eyes brightened and she nodded, Varric gave a tiny scoff in the background, but when Hawke glanced to look at him, his face was again stern, unyielding. As if she was just another Carta member. 

Or worse.

Anders coughed softly to catch her attention, and she looked up to him, giving him a weak smile. He was trying, trying to give her a chance, trying to understand her - she could see that. Did he feel some sympathy for her because she was a mage? Or did he figure out that if her timeline is further up than theirs she knows his plan, that she might be some kind of a demon? 

She wasn’t sure.

“If you head north from my clinic, there’s a secret trap door. Where does it lead?” Garrett looked over to Anders, watching him sternly, almost as if he was worried for him. 

As if she could ever hurt Anders.

“Mage underground.” She said and swallowed hard. “You use it when you want to smuggle mages from the Gallows. It used to be a lyrium hideout. But... you’ve barely been there after what happened with Ella.” 

Anders visibly flinched before looking away. He nodded then, to assure her that she was right. Still, it was a risky move. If she was a fraud, she could have used that information to really sabotage him, to really... hurt him. Did he trust her?

Aveline, who was standing beside Garrett, looked over to the tall man and then to Marian. She was seizing her up, with those smart green eyes, and Marian really just wanted to bust out a grin to assure her friend that it was really her, not some stranger in her skin... or something. Instead, she swallowed hard, and shrugged. 

“I’m not quite sure what to ask her.” She stated simply, narrowing her eyes. “Considering most of what happened to me is already in Varric’s books. Though fairly exaggerated.”

“Don’t you think ‘fairly’ is too light of a term?” Marian piped up, since she did read the books, even though no one asked her anything.

The comment got her a stern look from everyone, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She had to look like she had things in control, right? Even if it was nothing more than a sham? 

“Well, for example, in one of the chapters, Donnic sweeps you off your feet, yes? Well, that won’t happen, not ever. You’re the shield, you don’t falter.” She said, and she knew that much to be true. How often did Aveline get between her and swords that were ready to slice her if she didn’t react quickly enough? Aveline saved her life more often than she’d like to even imagine.

Aveline hummed, tilting her head. “That’s kind of you to say.” 

Marian shrugged, giving her a smile back. “I’m kind all around.”

Garret didn’t seem to be amused, and he looked over to Varric. “Your turn.” He said simply, wanting to cut the moment of sympathy for Marian short. She understood – he was the leader, after all. And a leader has to be dominant. Even if it was annoying.

Varric kept his brown eyes on her, scrutinizing any movement she made. Lucky for him, her movements were minimal as she tried to keep as still as possible so not to show how nervous she was. Not even she was certain that it was working.

But he was quiet, and that was eerily unsettling for her. After all, she was used to him always having something to say, something to add on, always something. But now, he was quiet, unyielding... 

Garret looked back to Sebastian and Fenris, and Marian was certain that her heart stopped as she noticed how close together they were standing, as if Sebastian was holding him back. She understood, Maker did she understand. Knowing Fenris, he’d already be rather vocal about her keeping her staff away from them, or grilling her with questions. But with Sebastian close, maybe he decided to keep his mouth shut. After all, Sebastian had a rather calming effect on the elf.  
Maybe even more so now that she never met him before.

Her eyes settled on his, and she couldn’t look away. Those same green eyes that she loved so much didn’t recognise her, didn’t see her as his, didn’t know that she often caught him looking at her while she was pretending to sleep. Fenris didn’t know who she is, and it was tearing her apart.  
As if on cue, Varric spoke up. 

“You mentioned a key, Hawke?” Varric looked over to the man, and Marian leaned back a little in her seat. Part of her was itching to reply – after all, he was addressing her. Sort of.

“Yes. She had a key, she didn’t pick the lock.” The man explained, and Varric hummed in his deep voice before turning to her. “May I see it?”

Marian pressed her lips together, before slipping the necklace around her neck and offering it to him. The two rings slowly clinked against the key, the swaying motion stopping. Varric came over taking the key in his hands. He turned it over, ran his nail over it, but suddenly stopped and pulled away her mother’s ring from the two.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, squinting on one eye to look at it.

“.... It was my mother’s. I took it from her after she died.” She simply replied, and glanced up as Garret came over to look at it as well. He narrowed his eyes slightly at it, before looking down to her. She simply shrugged and looked away to the tip of her staff. “I found it comforting, to keep something of hers. We didn’t see eye to eye often – but I had to keep something of hers.” She said simply and pressed her lips tightly together. 

Varric looked up to Garret and nodded. “It’s a nicely crafted key as well. Worn out. She’s been using it, and well... The ring is identical to yours.” He said simply, and Garret looked over to her, before turning to walk away from her. Varric handed her the necklace back but stopped midway. 

“You never told us your name.” He said suddenly, and Marian sighed. She reached out and took the necklace from him.

“Please don’t start calling me Marian – You always called me Hawke, from the day I met you.” She said simply, and pulled her necklace back on, tucking it under her clothes.

“Did I?” He laughed at that and turned around. “Marian Hawke. It’s a good hero name, I will give you that.” He said as he went back to Garret’s side. Once he was back, Garret turned to look to Fenris and Sebastian.

“Do you two have anything to ask?” 

Sebastian looked over to Fenris briefly, before going back to Garret. He was quiet, before looking over to Marian. “I have no further questions.”

Marian noticed that Fenris looked at her, cold, unrelenting. It was tiring to keep his gaze, so she looked away, running her finger over one of the runes that was inscribed into the staff.

“Fenris?” Garret’s voice was even – she wasn’t sure what to make of it. What could Fenris even ask her that she didn’t know already? Maker, if she knew anyone it was Fenris. She knew him better than she knew herself. 

She didn’t look at Fenris, merely continued to fiddle around with her staff. It was when Garret spoke up that she looked up to him finally.

“Go upstairs. We’ll decide what happens.” Garret kept his eyes on her, and she didn’t dare to sigh, didn’t dare to protest. Instead, she just took her staff and got to her feet.

“Hawke.” Fenris spoke up, and both Garret and Marian looked over to him, but... Maker, he wasn’t talking to her, and it was strange. Stranger than anything she ever ran into before.

Garret noticed that Fenris didn’t have his eyes on Marian, but on her white staff, and he merely nodded. “I’ll need you to leave that with us.” He ordered, and Marian frowned, gripping her staff tighter.

“I need this.” She protested, her lips pressed tightly together. She’s not letting go.

“And for what do you need it?” Garret clearly wasn’t happy with the answer, judging from the way he looked at her, the black brows furrowed over the bright blue eyes that they both shared.

“Walking, among other things.” She gestured to her hurt foot, and gripped her staff tighter. If she lets go of it, she’s defenceless. Sure, there was some magic that she could do without her staff, but it wasn’t strong magic, it wasn’t magic that could save her in case he decided to end her, in case he decided that she wasn’t real enough for them.

“Leave it here. You’re a mage, and mages need staffs.” Garret was setting his foot down, and she didn’t want to part from her staff. What if something goes wrong and a rift opens? Highly unlikely, but who knows? What if they decide to kill her?

Hawke can’t die here. She needs to go back to Fenris, she needs to get back to her brother, to her future. Not be stuck in a past that isn’t hers. Marian could almost feel how tense every muscle in her body was, how hard she was gripping her staff. She can’t be stuck here, defenceless. Not now.

“Hand it over. Now.” 

Her breath is short as she puts weight on her other foot and hands her staff over him. The hair on the back of her neck raises as he takes her staff, and she watches his grubby hands wrap around the white wood. Her staff, her only protection. She could see some of the group ease up when her staff is gone, yet she still felt like a bow that’s wound up too tight. Her blue eyes flickered to his face, staring at it sharply, making note of every line in his face.

Maker, she wanted to punch him. Not because he was talking to her like she was a feral animal – but because he made sense. She was someone who was claiming to be him, someone that knew far too much and was dangerous. Of course he had to take her staff away to protect himself. 

It made sense, yet she still wanted to punch him.

“Go upstairs to the guest room. We’ll call you down when we need you.”

Hawke swallowed hard, and just as she started to walk, she felt Isabela’s warm hand slip over her middle to help her walk. It was surprising that she came to help her, but she was looking straight forward not at her. 

Was she feeing sympathetic towards her? Hawke wasn’t sure if she could put her finger on it, but she made a mental note to thank her. Somehow. 

Once upstairs, Anders opened the bedroom door for her, and she entered without another word. Isabela pulled back, finally looking her in the eye. Yet Hawke couldn’t read her – one of her closest and dearest friends, yet Hawke couldn’t read her. No one said anything as Anders closed the door. 

The moment the door closed, she heard a soft sound wave across the room, like wind chimes.  
A protection spell, one that would make the door closed shut for as long as the caster wanted it to. 

The urge to touch the doorknob was getting to her. She wanted to see what kind of barrier spell Anders used. But knowing him, it was the electric one. Best not to touch it

Now that she was alone, her heart was beating loudly against her ribs, making every bone in her body hurt just from that. She could feel how sweaty her palms were, and even though her foot was protesting against it, she was still upright. 

What if they deem her a liar and go to kill her? Now that she was without her staff she couldn’t stand a chance against them. One bolt from Bianca and she is gone. 

“We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

With her hand pressed against her stomach, the fabric scrunched up under her hand, as she tried to comfort not only herself, but her... her...

“We’ll be okay.” She muttered once more, and just as she did a sharp pain struck her, as if she was pierced by a javelin. It was sharp, unrelenting, and if pain could blind you that was it. 

Hawke could taste blood in her mouth as she bit her lip tightly to stop herself from crying out in pain. 

It was metallic, and the pain wasn’t going away.

This couldn’t be the bad food and the nerves. This had to be something else.

Another wave of pain washed through her, harder than before, sharper. It was as if she was thrown into a pool of broken glass, everything was cutting, hurting, screaming. She wanted it to stop, Maker, she wanted it to stop so badly that she was close to screaming. 

One hand held her stomach as tightly as she could, and the other took a hold of the bedpost, nails shoving themselves roughly into the wood. 

The pain was only growing in intensity with every heartbeat that shook her body. It was suffocating her, blinding her, making it hard to even think. The only thought that she could wrap her pain struck mind around was that this couldn’t be happening.

Not this too. 

And she won’t allow it to happen. She looked at the door, with all the fury and pain that was mixing in her mind. She needed help – and the best healer in all of Kirkwall was down there. Her staff was down there.

She pushed herself off, and she could barely register the pain of walking on both feet, as she raised both hands up. She was going to blast through this damn protection with pure, raw magic.

Marian can’t die here; not like this, not now. Not in a time that isn’t hers, not when she’s so close to her very own perfect ending.

The door was looking at her, laughing at her, mocking her very existence. Raising her shivering hands, and using only her blinding willpower, she piled up every ounce of magic she had in her body. 

And then there was an earth shattering blast, as the door flew off its hinges, the barrier breaking with such force that everything shook. 

Even she, as she stumbled. She barely had the energy to look up when there was a commotion in front of the doorframe, or what was left of it. Marian didn’t have to be a genius to know that the blast of pure, raw magic energy that she produced managed to destroy not only the barrier but the door. Through the haze of exhaustion and pain she could barely make out Anders, Garret, Isabela, and Varric... barely.

“Stop!” 

“She blasted through the-“

“She’s bleeding-“

“Maker...”

She couldn’t pull their voices apart, and before she knew it someone caught her and moved her to the bed. She could somewhat register Anders, his brown hair, pale skin...

“Marian, what did you do?” He whispered and she felt his hand above her stomach. Finally, she looked down, and she could see the blood pooling around her legs. She managed to lift her hand, and grip his shirt, it took every ounce of strength to hold onto him.

“Save it.” She murmured, and she saw him freeze, seeing his face stiffen and all of his muscles tighten together as it dawned on the other mage as well.

Marian barely registered Isabela in the background, Garret was even further behind. She couldn’t read their faces, as she once more looked back to Anders.

“Please.” 

“Save my baby.”


	3. To Gather What Courage You Have.

Their pace was too slow.

Fenris could almost feel his skin itching from the slow pace that he was forced to go at, so much slower that he had to keep his lips pressed tightly together so not to explode at the mage again. He already did it twice today, and it wasn't even high noon.

Fenris wanted to, oh he so wanted to, turn around, grab Anders by the collar and drag him through the forest on his own if he had to. Their pace would be quicker if he did that. If he got him to Skyhold faster, he would get Hawke back faster. If he did that, he could save faster Hawke. 

He just had to help her. Not just because he was going insane with this mage, but because he had to get Hawke back to safety. For his sake, for her sake, and for... the child’s sake. 

Maker, he hoped she was being careful. 

“You know, I think Varric should have stuck to ‘gloomy’. You’re really gloomy.”

Fenris stopped at that comment, and closed his eyes tight, trying to convince himself he just needs to keep walking, and ignoring this stupid mage. 

Get to Skyhold, talk to the Inquisitor, and get his Hawke back. 

Then he can scold her for being stupid and going into something head first, and never let her out of his sight again.

“Will you just shut up?” He let out through his tightly pressed lips, giving the other a harsh glare. Anders looked just as ragged as the day he found him, hair messy, and his eye bags getting worse by the day. Anders huffed and rolled his shoulders back.

“Can we take a break? We’ve been walking since dawn.”

“And you slept throughout the night.”

“No, I haven’t. We stopped only when your eyes couldn’t see in the dark. And do I have to remind you that you see better in the dark than I? Plus, I don’t know where we’re going. Or why do you need me to save Hawke.” Anders raised an eyebrow, and Fenris let out a strangled sigh. 

“We don’t have time for stops.”

Anders was just about to retort, but Fenris managed to speak first, his voice dry. “Do you want Hawke to stay in the blasted Fade any longer than necessary? Do you really care so little about her?”

Anders frowned, shoulders setting firm, and for once his fingers stopped fidgeting. “Of course I care for her. Hawke has been a great friend and amazing support-“

“Glad we got that sorted out. Now, pick up the pace.”

He turned around to walk, but after five steps, he stopped since he couldn’t hear the other following him. The elf turned around to him, green eyes flaring, as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe I should just tie you and drag you with me.”

“Like a slave.”

Fenris winced at that remark, but his expression soon turned to a frown, almost hearing Hawke chide him that his face will set like that if he keeps making that expression. Maker, what he wouldn’t give to listen to that lecture again if it just meant seeing her. 

“That was uncalled for.”

“It was absolutely called for. Fenris, you’re asking me to march to my certain death in hopes that the Inquisitor might be able to open the Fade, and that Hawke might just be in the exact same spot as where the rift is. You are aware that the Fade is huge and crawling with demons that just can’t wait to cling to a mage as powerful as Hawke?”

Fenris’s glare now matched Anders’s, and Fenris never felt a stronger urge to just punch him so he passes out, and he could drag him. It would be quieter. 

“So, we should just leave her there to die?” He snarled out, and Maker, he couldn’t even imagine it. He couldn’t even imagine leaving Hawke there to die at the hands of demons. Not after all she’s been through. Not after hearing her telling him what happened in the Deep Roads, not after seeing her impaled on that blade that the Arishok wielded, not after watching the rebellion take everything from her.

He remembered walking away from Kirkwall, the image of her despair and lost face burnt into his brain. And this man dared to suggest he leaves her there, that he leaves the one person he loves and their child?

Fenris knew there was no way Anders could know about the child. No one knew about the child but them, and even she blurted out one night that she’s pregnant, little after he arrived at Adamant. It was such a stupid conversation, and now...

“No, I’m not suggesting that. Why don’t you take me to the rift? Maybe I could get her out.”

Fenris frowned and shook his head. “No.” 

“And why not?”

“Because.” Fenris swallowed hard. He should explain, but he honestly didn’t want to waste his energy on it. He had to get to Hawke, had to get her out and never let her out of his sight again. She needed to be safe, and she needed to be with him.

“I’m afraid that’s not a valid reason.”

Letting out a harsh breath through his teeth, Fenris narrowed his eyes back at the mage. “She was sucked in by one of those... green rifts. You’re far from an expert. She studied some of it and learned from the expert. You haven’t. I do not wish to waste time on this.”

Anders swallowed hard, and Fenris hoped he understood how important it was for them to just pick up the pace and get to Skyhold.

“And the expert is this inquisitor you’re taking me to?”

Fenris’s reply was a mere nod.

“Why would she need me in the first place? If that rift is as dangerous as you say it only makes sense that she’d have to go and fix it.”

Fenris sighed. “From what Hawke told me about this Inquisitor, she has her hands full of things. And she perhaps might need... an incentive to get her going.”

“And that’s where I come in? I’m flattered that you believe I could charm the most powerful woman in Thedas at the moment, but I’m afraid I’m past my prime.”

Fenris looked at the other, his face cold and stern. “This is no time for jest, mage.” He stated simply, and breathed through his nose.

“... Please.” He finally said and looked over at him. “I haven’t asked for anything from you, my whole life. Never. I’m asking you to do this, not just because you owe this to me, but because Hawke was once everything to all of us.” He bit his lip as he realized he used the past tense. He can’t give up – if he gives up then who will go and get her out of it? 

“... You want to trade me for her. I will get a trial for starting the mage rebellion and she will try to get Hawke out of there.” 

Fenris looked up, watching the mage. His brown eyes were set on the mossy path ahead of him, his shoulders low. He looked tired, beaten down. This was asking for a lot, Fenris was well aware of that. But he had to get Hawke back. He had to get her to safety.

“Yes. I know I’m asking for everything, but wasn’t she everything to you as well? Could you give her a life that she deserves? We… We both know what she went through.”

“I’m aware of it, yet-“

“She might have a life now. I proposed to her, we will find a small house in a field… And she’s pregnant, Anders. Anders, she’s pregnant and who knows what-“  
Anders lifted his head to stop him and he stood quietly for a moment.

Anders looked up at him, and Fenris wondered if the other could see the despair that he felt, crawling over every inch of his body, soul, and mind. He was desperate to get Hawke back. 

“I’m assuming you’re not just going to turn me in until she promises.”

“No – I do have a plan.” Fenris stopped, and looked over at him, before looking back behind himself. It would take them at least another week to get to Skyhold, and the rest of the trip is over a steep mountain range. Just a little bit further and then...

“... I suppose I can go over the plan with you over a break.” Fenris said simply, tilting his chin to the small clearing on the right side of them.

Anders looked towards it, and then back to Fenris, giving a slow, steady nod.

“Lead the way.”

**/**

The coin he flipped between his fingers was Orleasian. It was golden and shiny and he liked it. But this was no ordinary day, Varric knew. Ever since he woke up, he felt it in his bones that something was up.

Was that a sign of getting old?

_Bah_ , stupid tales. 

Still, when he was asked for by someone who knew him by name, he did go to the front garden of the Skyhold. The moment the guards told him how the men looked, he told them to take him inside immediately.

And there he was, flanked by two men.

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite elf!” Varric said proudly as if his own prodigal son returned. However, even he noticed there were a few things off.

First of all, Fenris was alone. He rarely went anywhere without Hawke, especially since he received a letter from Hawke that they are working together in Weisshaupt. 

Second, even he looked tired. He looked like he went without a sleep for quite a while, hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a while.

Either way, he will find out in a moment.

“Hello, Varric.” He said simply, and Varric raised an eyebrow. 

“Just a hello? No sobs? No tearful embrace?”

The empty look on his face said everything and the dwarf sighed. “Let’s talk inside.”

Once they were in one of his rooms, a room full of books, scrolls and lit by candlelight did he see Fenris relax somewhat. Not a lot, but ever so slightly. Something had to be wrong, very wrong for him to be like this.

“I’m guessing it’s about Hawke.”

The elf eyes flickered off briefly, before settling on the dwarf. “I need the inquisitor.”

“I thought you two were a serious thing.”

The look he gave him, Varric lifted his hands, shaking them. “I only jest. Just explain, Fenris.”

Fenris was quiet for a few moments, before he started to talk, his voice flat maybe because he was too drained. “We were sent to investigate a rift – Carver, Hawke and me. When we approached it, Hawke interacted with it. It blew a strong energy blast, knocking off Carver and me. However, Hawke disappeared. We tried attacking it, but it didn’t… work.”

Varric felt his blood run cold and colder by every word that Fenris said. He tried his very best not to imagine it. Not to imagine something horrid happening to her before his very eyes. She suffered enough, he told himself, and he didn’t even notice he gripped the edge of a table.

“The rift is still open. I’ve trekked all this way for the Inquisitor to come there and pull her out.”

Varric took a few steps back, simply breathing in the words that he said. Hawke was in trouble, worse trouble than he imagined. And to think that just a few weeks ago, she promised him she will stay out of any trouble for the rest of a long, uneventful and utterly boring life.

He released the table and clapped his hands together. He will fix this. He will make the inquisitor do everything for her. They took too much. Too much.

“Well, let us get the inquisitor.” He said simply and grabbed Fenris by the wrist, almost dragging him out of the room.

The halls of Skyhold echoed dully as they walked, people’s hands turning to an odd elf that walked beside one of the inquisitors most noted friends.

“What do you plan to say? Did you think of anything?” Varric asked as they made their way to the war council room – he figured the inquisitor was most likely there. If not, then the gardens. But this was a better choice, so he guided Fenris to it.

“Get Hawke back. She did too much for you already, you owe her more than this.” He said simply, but Varric hummed. 

“I have no doubt that she’d help – but with the whole world trying to end itself…”

“The world doesn’t matter to me.”

Varric looked up, seeing the desperation in Fenris’s bright green eyes. Was love like this even possible, he wondered. Were there really people who depended so much on someone else that they would give everything else up for them? Was it even healthy?

What would Fenris do if inquisitor agreed but couldn’t…

He didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t.

“You must be really desperate to beg, Fenris.”

"If it's for Hawke, I'll do it. And the Inquisitor is the only one who can help."

"And what if it killed her?"

"It's Hawke we're talking about. The only way death could take her would be in her sleep, or else she'd put up a fight." Varric let out a soft laugh at the comment and watched Fenris's rigid walk as if the other was walking on needles.

Hawke did have that impact on everyone, he had to agree. She always seemed unshakable, strong, determined, and just one look at her back made you believe she could shoulder the world on it. She was stronger than death, but that was just unreasonable.

"You think the Inquisitor will help her even though she told her not to act on her own if she sees something curious?"

"She has to. I'm not giving her a choice."

Varric watched the cold dedication in his jade eyes, and he prayed to anyone that could hear him that Hawke was still alive and that she was trying to get back to him. Or Fenris will raise hell itself.

Fenris stopped for a second, glancing towards the mountains as if he remembered something. “… If I had something to offer her. Something… vital, do you think she’d leave the very moment I tell her?”

Varric looked at him, before frowning. What was passing through his mind?

“Perhaps. Depends on what that something is.”

Fenris stood quiet, before looking around. There were a few people milling about, so he lowered his voice.

“Anders.”

Varric widened his eyes and shook his head. “No, no. You can’t be serious. Hawke would kill you if something happened to him-“

“Well, she isn’t here to make that choice!” He sneered and pressed his hand to his forehead. “Varric, it’s… urgent. Hawke. Marian-“ His voice was strained to a possible breaking point as he said her name. No one used Marian if it wasn’t extremely important.

“Marian is with child. I don’t want to imagine the stress she’s under.”

With that said, Varric took a few steps back.

With a child. 

In a flash, he remembered sitting with Hawke on her balcony. She had her long legs propped up, watching the people under her from her plush chair. Did you know that my neighbors had a child, she commented, and he teased her for looking wistful. She shrugged and glanced over at him, with those bright blue eyes. She told him how she might like  
it – a kid.

He pressed his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes tightly. He contacted her. Asked her to come. Begged her to come and help.

And of course, she did. She always did everything for everyone.

The world took too much from her.

Finally, Varric looked up.

“We’re giving her Anders. We’re going to the fucking Black City if we must to get her back.”

At that, he saw a weak smile on Fenris’s face.

“… Might as well make you the godfather then, hm?”

Varric laughed and clapped his friend on the back. He is getting his Hawke back and putting her in the safest place possible in the world. 

The world took too much from her – it’s time for it to pay her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it only took me a forever. next chapter is coming. soonish. hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much for reading! This is my first Dragon Age series, or any work whatsoever, so I'd greatly appreciate any type of comment! Also, a huge thank you to my lovely beta, Ilhi. You can find her at  
> ilhirel.tumblr.com !


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